


Under My Skin

by ConfessedGeek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Harry is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insomnia, Mentions of PTSD, Minor Character(s) Death, Not for the faint of heart, Sexual Content, Shit is going down just so you know, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, grey!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessedGeek/pseuds/ConfessedGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of helping with the reconstruction of Hogwarts, families that had been affected by the war  and being hailed as the saviour of the wizarding world, Luna and Hermione were worried about Harry's well-being. Harry had been running himself dry; going to ministry galas and helping raise Teddy,  despite suffering from insomnia due to trying to escape his nightmares. Luna and Hermione had finally had enough and convinced Harry to take time off and travel in order to get better for Teddy if not himself. </p>
<p>Harry traveled around Europe for a bit before traveling to America; using practically no magic in order to blend in and keep a low profile. Of course, he ends up in Gotham - city of sin and violence - where he captures the attention of the Queen of Gotham herself. </p>
<p>Trouble would cross boarders to find Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own anything from Harry Potter or Suicide Squad or anything related to Harley Quinn and the Joker.

**Pretty Eyes**

When Harley first stumbles upon him - she almost walks by. The figure had been a familiar one, one she had seen at nearly every street alley in this part of Gotham - a young man leaning up against a building with his head bowed. Indeed, her blue eyes had skimmed over his seemingly too large worn jeans, long-sleeved white t-shirt that fitted only somewhat better and a mess of pitch-black hair. It was boring, common, she had almost turned away -

Then the young man had looked up, his eyes meeting hers and Harley sucked in a breath. He had the prettiest eyes. Even in the dark alley downtown in Gotham, his eyes shone like bright, glittering emeralds.

Oh - those eyes, they fit nicely on his face too. Even with the slight gauntness from lack of food and the shadows under his eyes Harley could not deny the loveliness of the boy's features. The strong jaw, the cheekbones - the dark pink pout of his lips against slightly tanned skin...

He was so lovely - so pretty even though he wasn't smiling.

Harley hadn't had anyone to play with in awhile; perhaps she could make him smile.

However, before she could so much as take a step in his direction, the boy had began walking off. Harley tried to catch up, but somehow she managed to lose the boy on her home turf. It irritated the Queen of Gotham - knowing her latest person of interest had evaded her. She was quick to shrug the feeling off though when her Puddin texted her to join him in a bank robbery, skipping happily in the direction.

The green-eyed boy doesn't come to mind until she is gazing at the Joker's hair with the sudden thought that the boy's eyes had been brighter.

_H~H_

It is a week later when she sees the emerald-eyed young man again. His clothes are the same; typical of many runaways in Gotham. But they are also clean; significantly less typical. He is reading a newspaper, his teeth biting his lower lip as he flips through. Harley knows she ought to be in there somewhere, even if it is only a small section (though that is doubtful). She and her Puddin had pulled off three heists this week and had a nice fight with Batsy too; it would be a crime if they weren't in the paper.

Vaguely, she wonders if the boy would remember her.

As if to answer her unspoken question, his vivid green eyes meet hers even from across the street. They blink once, then twice before widening in recognition - his lips parting. Harley smiles and winks, a giggle escaping her as the boy glances down once at the newspaper then back at her.

Suddenly, his expression changes, and while that is to be expected , _how_ it changes is not - there's no anger or disgust in his gaze, nor is there any awe or lust. There is just... _annoyance;_ undisguised _irritation_ and Harley does not know what to think when the boy looks up at the sky as if to say: _"Really?"_

By the time Harley is able to get over her surprise, the boy had folded the newspaper and walked off - disappearing on her _again._

Harley feels the stirring of anger in her stomach. This was unacceptable. She was Queen and she ruled these streets - the people _bowed_ before her, especially the people who had never met her personally. And even those that didn't would never, _ever_ ignore her.

They feared the consequence.

Perhaps that's why despite her anger, Harley's never-ending curiosity reared it's head along with her hunger for challenges. Because if the boy knew who she was and still chose to ignore her - then he certainly had balls.

A smile spread across her face at the thought, a gleeful giggle escaping her. The next time they met - and they'd be sure to meet - Harley would make sure he played.

_H~H_

There was chaos.

Wonderful, glorious _chaos._

It was in the terror of the tellers and customers at the bank. The lines of their face, the heaviness of their breathing, the sweat on their palms and the air _smelt_ of it.

She could hear Puddin laughing - hear a woman and her baby shrieking...

That sound was less pleasing.

Harley didn't have a problem with killing men or women (because she knew how dangerous they could be) but children had always been a no-go for her. Families even less so...

She had been a psychologist once, she had met with children who had been orphaned, placed in homes. She knew the terrible things that could occur there.

Apparently, someone else did too. She heard a unfamiliar shout, heard the sound of a heavy object hitting flesh -

The woman had stopped crying and she heard an unfamiliar, accented voice urging: "Go!"

The sound of running feet...

The sound of something heavy being shoved up against the teller's desk. Puddin had stopped laughing, but his voice still held amusement. "Trying to play the hero, boy?"

"You're the Joker, right?" The male voice said as Harley made her way towards it, bags of money in hand. "Well, I guess I know where you got that from - you're make-up routine is hilarious. Did your kids do it?"

Harley makes her way around the corner just as Mister J's grin drops, replaced with a murderous expression. What makes Harley nearly drops the bags in shock was that it was aimed at a familiar young man gripping at the Joker's hand on his throat, burning green eyes gazing at him with amusement that is expressed only in his eyes. "Are you suicidal boy?" Mister J inquires, unknowingly quoting Harley's exact thoughts.

"Nope. I've just got a condition: it's called 'The Saving People Thing.' Symptoms include: reckless endangerment of oneself, attracting trouble like a magnet and little to no fear of self-injury and/or death." The boy lists without care, accent making the words flow beautifully.

There is a pause. "So, you are." The Joker concludes, looking slightly less murderous.

"No - 'cause I don't intend to die whenever I get in one of these messes - I just _don't care_ if I do." The green-eyed young man corrects, looking serious. "Trust me, there's a difference."

"Well, as long as the result is the same - I really don't give a shit." The Joker replies, pulling out a gun and placing it against the boy's temple which makes him tense.

Anger floods through Harley - the boy was _hers_ to play with. She had seen him first. "Puddin!" She calls out sweetly, making both men turn towards her in shock. Happily skipping over, Harley shows him the loot. "We've got it all..."

"Great, toots." Mister J says excitedly, a mad grin spreading across his features as he shook the boy. "Let me just take care of this, then we'll go home..."

The boy lets out a groan of disbelief. "It's like Bellatrix and Snake-Face all over again...Only this seems to be consensual on both sides...weird..."

His comment earns him a sharp hit with the butt of the gun. The boy merely groans.

Harley giggles. "Puddin, do you have to kill him? He's funny..."

"He's a little shit." The Joker argues.

Harley doesn't back down. "Little shits tend to be the funniest of all."

The Joker seems to consider it for a moment, but then places the gun tighter against the boy's head. "Not if they have the hero's spirit..."

"This is officially not how I imagined my vacation -" The boy mutters, earning his head a harsh shove into the desk. "Fuck - I don't have brain-cells to spare!"

"I can break him." Harley whispers into the Joker's ear, hand resting gently on his shoulder. "We need more guys as ballsy as he is anyway - _please_ Puddin..." Harley purrs, feeling the man shiver beneath his jacket. "I haven't a toy to play with in awhile. Please..."

There is a moment of pause, then the Joker lets out a groan. "You're killin' me, baby." To her joy, he removes the gun from the boy's head, but keeps a firm grasp on his throat. "He's your responsibility - keep him leashed until you know you've broken him. If you can't - either hand him over to me, or cut him loose."

"That's the plan, Puddin." Harley agrees, her blue eyes meeting the boy's green with excitement, loving the defiance gathering in them. "But I'm sure I'll get to him."

The Joker grins. "Good." With that he hit the boy over the head sharply with the gun, causing his green eyes to roll back before he slumped against the counter.

Harley has the feeling it's the beginning of something amazing.


	2. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This snippet takes place after the first.

**Scars**

After the boy had been unceremoniously dumped onto one of the spare-rooms bed; Harley had taken it upon herself to cover him nicely with blankets before looking at his bruised face with a giggle. "I'll get you some ice for that nasty bump, sugar." She tells his unconscious form, swooping in to place a kiss on his cheek before skipping out the door.

When she comes back, it is with a tray containing a bowl of chicken broth and an ice pack wrapped in some clothes. Humming cheerfully to herself, Harley sets the broth on the bedside table and takes the ice-pack in hand, brushing back the boy's hair to place it directly on the bump -

She stops, eyes widening slightly as she takes in the scar shaped like a lightning bolt. "That's neat." She notes, one hand still holding the ice pack in place while the other reached out, "What could've given ya this, sugar?" Vivid green eyes fly open the second her index finger brushes against the scar; a hand grasping her wrist to stop her from going any further.

"Don't." The boy gasped, his eyes wide and vulnerable as Harley gazed back at him in shock.

Shock she is quick to shake herself from. "Where'd ya get that from?"

The boy's eyes seemed to focus slightly at that and he let out a groan of pain, his grip loosening so that Harley could pull her wrist from his hold. "You kidnapped me?" He inquires after a moment. Harley frowns at his avoidance of the question, opening her mouth to repeat it when the boy cut her off. "Are you going to start torturing me now?"

"That's not part of the plan -" Harley says thoughtfully, blue eyes lighting up with gleeful insanity. "But if you're into that - I'm sure I can arrange it."

The boy's eyes widened. "You're fucking serious - Why don't you just kill me?"

"What's the fun in that?" Harley pouts. "Besides, if I kill you - your eyes won't be as pretty -"

"My eyes?!" The boy stammers. "You kidnapped me because you think I have pretty eyes!"

Harley lets out a giggle, straddling the boy as he began to struggle, her hand tangling in his hair to pull his head back. "Well, not just your eyes, sugar." She tells him, her eyes flickering over his face appreciatively as she leaned forward so that they were almost nose to nose. "You are a very, very pretty thing..." She purrs, batting her eyes at him.

"Won't your boyfriend get jealous?" The boy questions, a bite to his words that only serves to thrill Harley even more.

"Maybe - but I do what I want; go where I want - " with each statement she leaned closer, until her lips were practically brushing against his with every word she spoke, her body pressed to his surprisingly toned one. "Fuck who I want." Blue gazed into emerald intensely as the boy's breathing brushed against her lips; a strangely pleasant sensation.

Harley loved the disbelief slowly growing in the boy's eyes - the slight flush that was creeping up his cheeks and the heavy beating of his heart that she could feel pounding against his ribs. After his cool indifference, the sight of seeing him actually react to her close proximity made the blonde woman feel how she should - powerful. But even as she drank it in greedily; feeling the air shift with something new and _intoxicating_ that she could feel humming beneath the boy's skin, ready to lash out - it wasn't quite enough. Not for Harley who was used to having men practically drooling at merely the sight of her. So she leans in, fully intending to close the distance between their lips - to make this pretty thing with lovely, lovely eyes _want_ to submit to her...

The young man turned his head so that she got his cheek instead. "I admit, I'm not used to this tactic -" The boy muttered, a note of smugness in his voice as Harley pulled back angrily. "But, you're going to have to do better than that to 'break me'." His eyes had gained a steely glint to them at those words; his jaw clenched as his words became like icicles: cold, and sharp. "More dangerous people than you and your boyfriend have failed."

His blatant disregard for Harley's and her Puddin's reputation and everything they worked for makes Harley snap and she pulls the boy's head hard so that it slams against the headboard, knocking him out-cold.

"We'll see about that."

However, once the red-haze cleared, Harley could not help but ponder his statement - wondering who he could have possibly tangled with in the past to be so unafraid of her and Mister J and if they had anything to do with the scar. She was eager to prove him wrong - to make him bow at her feet and have those pretty eyes looking up at her in awe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the amazing feedback!  
> This is a section of the next snippet told from Harley's perspective, since I thought that the events leading up to this scene and what occurs afterwards would be more interesting if told from someone else's. (Not going to tell you who - it'll ruin the fun.) So, technically it happens after the second one - but there's a lot of missing information that will be brought to light in the next one. Wonder if you can find any hints to what those missing events were...;)

**Taste**

White-hot fury was pumping through the Queen of Gotham's veins as she pushed the young man against the wall, making sure to dig her nails into the soft flesh of his wrists so that she drew blood. With her body pressed to his she can feel very beat his heart makes - every breath he takes -

He should be reacting with lust with the way her curves push against his chest - should be in awe that she, a fucking _Queen_ , was giving him so much attention -

He doesn't even spare her a smile.

The thought makes her blood boil hotter; makes it just that much more difficult to stay in control of her expression as she is reminded of the fact that a simple, ordinary _bitch_ had managed to take from him what she couldn't with nothing but a few _words._

"If you ever try to escape again - I will _demolish_ whoever you are around." She hisses fervently, her grip tightening on his wrists to make sure the threat - no, promise sinks in as he stiffens beneath her, pretty, pretty eyes narrowing. "You're _mine."_ She tells him, the fact making some of the fire go away - a gleeful smile pulling up her lips...

He leans forward, eyes like Greek fire as he growls: _"You wish."_

Harley feels the muscles that kept up her smile freeze, feels the little bit of rage that had been swept away return ten-fold as they stare each other down, breaths mingling. She feel's his heart beat: once, twice. She smells the light scent of whiskey on his breath. She sees the depths of his green eyes; all the emotions that linger there - the anger, the disbelief, the _defiance..._

She wanted to bottle it up. She wanted to keep it locked up and safe.

It was _hers._ _He_ was _hers._ He was hers to _bend_ \- _to shatter into jagged_ _shards -_

Briefly, she wonders if she's becoming obsessed with someone who would only be tossed away in the end only to shake the feeling off.

He's _hers._

She can smell him - the hearty spice mixed with the strange thing that she felt underneath his skin the first time they touched. She feels it now, beneath her fingers - in the air; a slight warning of power and danger...

She breathes it in at the same moment that he does - and her gaze falls on his neck.

_Hers..._

Her lips touch his skin determinedly - smirking as she feels his pulse stutter. She hears him draw in a ragged breath and it urges her on - moving her lips up against the smooth skin of his neck and jaw to reach his ear which she tugs on lightly with her teeth. Releasing it, she pushes herself against him - a heated, breathless promise escaping her lips: "I will have you _begging_ for me when I'm through with you."

She retraces her path back down to his jugular, finding his pulse easy as is hummed beneath his skin. Her lips brush over it - reveling in feeling the hash beats -

She wants it for her own.

Her teeth sink in, and she tastes blood as she sucks hard - smirking at the way he spasms under her - his breath heavy and pulse racing. She moves along his skin - feeling more of that strangeness that seemed to live within the young man's very skin. She can't resist to slide her tongue over her newest mark - unable to stop the soft moan that escaped her at the taste. Smugness radiates off him at that - and to remedy it she makes another mark - viciously biting into the skin to feel his pulse quicken again.

Once that is done she pulls away to inspect her work - smirking at the lovely array of forming red and purple bruises on his neck - feeling that if for nothing else, at least her Puddin's absence allowed for this. Her satisfaction grows at seeing the blush to the boy's cheeks and his dazed eyes; running a finger over the bruises happily, even as she pouts: "These will only last a little over a week..." An idea comes to her then; one that would ensure that other people would know who this pretty, defiant thing belonged to even if he continued to deny it. Giddy, she giggles: "But by then you'll have a more permanent collar."

The haze clears from his eyes - his body stiffening as he growls: "I'm _not_ your toy..."

Not interested in hearing him after her victory, she simply delivers a sharp right hook to his face. As he slumps over her shoulder, she whispers one last thing: "You're also my prize."


	4. Escapes

**Escapes**

The boy's first attempt to escape happens as soon as he awakens again. Frost reported that as he came with the boy's breakfast - he noticed he couldn't unlock the door. When he kicked it down - he was stunned to see the boy's fingers gripping the edge of what was supposed to be a sealed window still before they disappeared. Frost had run over, baffled to see that the young man had managed to land on someone else's balcony one floor down. The boy had looked at him and grinned, saluting with two fingers before walking into the apartment.

Two minutes later - one of Frost's men stood at the door sporting several bruises and holding up an significantly less hammered green-eyed young man. He lived across the hall from Buddy, who was lying unconscious in his apartment.

Harley had the window resealed and barred, making the boy's eyes shadow with something unnameable even as he grinned widely at her glare.

_H~H_

The second time happens only two days after the first. Frost remembers allowing the boy to come into the kitchen to get something to eat and hearing him mutter something under his breath before feeling something hard hit the back of his head. When he comes to - the boy is gone, and several phone-calls reveal that many of his men are unaware of his disappearance.

He had rushed to the door, intent on the finding the kid and beating some sense into him, when Harley came - her expression carefully sweet as another one of the bosses men held the boy in his arms, while she demanded how the _fuck_ the boy managed to make it to the _other-side of town._

To that, Frost has no answer and Harley puts a bullet in two of his men heads without so much of a blink. "Get more men to watch him if you have to - hell, have someone stay in his room. But make sure he doesn't leave - he's _mine."_

Frost isn't sure what to think of the fierce possession in Harley's voice, of the way she stands near the growing pool of blood with her gun still smoking in hand. He just knows that he better do exactly what his Queen ordered - or it might be his head next.

Later, Frost checks his head for any bumps, and is surprised when he feels none.

_H~H_

The third escape is very nearly the last.

Frost is cooking breakfast when he hears a loud _**crack**_ coming from the boy's room. He rushes in, not able to believe his eyes when he sees Jake - one of his best - lying asleep with no signs of escape anywhere.

He calls his men and have them searching through Gotham's many streets and alleys in seconds. With a nervous swallow he dials the Queen's number - ever so grateful that the King was away on business for two weeks.

The Queen - for all her insanity and love for violence, had a heart at least.

Although - hearing the sound of several things smashing over the phone made Frost also note that her heart had limits. He almost _hoped_ that the boy had gotten away.

By nightfall - it becomes clear that the boy is no longer in Gotham. They had called in every contact - searched every hole and gutter three times over. He wasn't in the city. When he broke the news to Harley - her expression became frighteningly blank, a bottle of scotch clutched in hand. He dodged just in time as it went sailing at the wall, smashing into shards. Her voice was quiet - dangerously so. "He wants to play hide and seek? All right - I'll play." A large smile blossoms onto her face, dangerously lovely as she breaks into hysterics "I'll win and take him as the prize."

_H~H_

Three days later - they find him in a little town just beyond the boarder into the Mexico. It was a lucky break, really - Frost had called two days ago to talk to one of the guys he knew on boarder-patrol there when the man had suddenly paused and described the kid.

How the _fucking hell_ the kid managed to make it to Mexico in the course of two days without booking a flight (because those had been the first thing he and his men checked out) - Frost had no clue. What he did know was that the Queen had lightened up at the news - and had happily taken her seat on the plane, but not before telling him with her eyes that her 'Puddin' wouldn't learn a thing about this.

Frost knew why - the boss wouldn't have understood why Harley went through such lengths to find the boy - hell, Frost (despite admittedly being impressed by the boy's evasion of them) didn't understand it.

Nevertheless, he gave his Queen the word of him and his men that the boss would not hear about this. (Of course, he made sure that his men would inform him if they got wind that the boss was returning early) But, really, what was the harm in a little trip to Mexico?

He quickly learned to eat those words.

They find the kid in a bar - of all places. He's sipping at whisky directly at the counter, listening to the pretty bartender intently. Emerald eyes never stray from the young woman as she speaks, expression revealing honest interest as he tips the glass back and forth slightly. Frost is content to sit back and wait for the boy to leave; they have to do this quietly if they don't want the boss to hear about it. Harley seems to be in agreement - even if her blue eyes track the boy's movements from over her small glass of tequila.

Naturally, it takes a seemingly innocent gesture to change that.

The bartender says something, gently nudging the kid's arm and his response is a slight smile - curling up the corners of his mouth prettily and making his eyes crinkle while his free hand ran through his hair.

Frost's only warning is feeling Harley tense beside him as he remembered that the boy - though coolly polite when he wasn't being a sassy shit - had never once offered his Queen a smile.

Harley is by the kid's side is seconds, pressing her body against his back as Frost followed behind as quickly as he could without looking overly suspicious. "Hey sugar -" She purrs, just loud enough for Frost and the bartender to hear. A heated glare, and a hand trailing down the kid's arm pointedly makes the woman flush before turning back to the drinks. Harley leaned in closer to the now tense kid, her lips brushing against his ear, breathing out: "Come quietly, or I'll shoot her down." Her hand trails back up to his bicep and _squeezes,_ nails digging in. Frost can't help but wince at the treatment - sure that it was going to leave bruises as the black-haired young man nodded slightly before following Harley out of the bar.

Then, in a move that took even Frost aback, she pressed the boy up against the wall of the building, knee between his legs and pinning his arms with her hands. The Queen says something, but it's too low for Frost to hear - however he does see the way her grip tightens on his wrists as the green-eyed boy narrowed his eyes at her. She says something else - a large smile playing across he features which freezes when the boy hisses a reply.

For a second the two stare at each other, practically nose to nose thanks to Harley's heels, the tension so thick Frost was half tempted to look away.

He should have listened to his instincts.

Harley's lips descend on the boy's neck - the boy's wide eyed expression copying Frost's own. But Harley continued to place kisses all the way up to the boy's ear which she tugged on with her teeth. From his angle, Frost can see her lips move just slightly to say something into the boy's ear - can see her mouth travelling back down to where Frost could only assume the boy's pulse was, brushing her lips over it gently - Suddenly, there was a flash of teeth as she bit into the young man's skin and _sucked,_ making his eyes blow wide and his body to jerk in a motion that could have been to throw her off or an effort to get closer.

Either way - Frost knew that the boss couldn't learn anything about this or it'd be both their necks on the line.

He tried to turn away to remedy the situation only to be sucked in (no pun intended) by Harley's continued administrations along the boy's neck and jaw, getting a glimpse of the Queen's pink tongue as it tasted the boy's skin -

He was all too glad when Harley finally pulled away, her lips pulled into a smug smile at seeing the boy's flushed cheeks and the red marks on his neck. She traces a finger over them idly - a pout on her lips as she whispers soft words to the boy. A second later, her eyes suddenly brighten with laughter; lips moving soundlessly.

Whatever she says makes boy's eyes clear; anger filling them as he starts to speak -

The rest of his sentence is lost as she delivers a sharp right hook to his jaw, sending his head straight into the wall with a **_smack._** The boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he swayed for a moment before falling against Harley's shoulder.

_H~H_

The next morning, Frost was helping himself to some coffee in the Penthouse's kitchen when the kid came stumbling in holding an ice-pack on his head. "Morning." Frost said in greeting, trying in vain to not gaze at the marks on the kid's neck. The boy returned the sediment grumpily, grabbing the newspaper as Harley came bounding in, pausing to rake her eyes over the boy's form with a satisfied expression. As if feeling her gaze - the boy spun around, the back of his shirt dipping ever so slightly to reveal some skin...

Frost coughed, nearly spilling coffee on himself as his eyes widen comically at the sight in front of him. Harley saw his reaction and winked - a wide smile pulling up her lips.

"What?" The boy's voice is filled with suspicion, every line of him tense... A few seconds later, his hand jerks towards the back of his neck, fingers just brushing over the source of Frost's disbelief and Harley's pleasure. The kid spins around, eyes wide for Frost to see, then sprints towards the bathroom.

A stream of curses follow that make Harley giggle as she helps herself to some orange juice while Frost buries his head in his hands - praying to God that the boss will never look too closely at the elegant black words placed where the kid's neck meets his shoulders:

_**Property Of Harley Quinn** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback (constructive criticism, questions, compliments - whatever, really) is greatly appreciated.


	5. Similar

**Similar**

Harley's new toy refused to tell her his name.

No matter how many times she asked, no many how many times she tried to get him to slip up - he would just look at her and reply with a smart-ass comment like: "If you're Queen, shouldn't you know?"

It infuriated her; but also confused her. Because for all the young man's obvious distaste at the fact that he had been caught -over the past four days he made no further attempts to escape and continued to be extremely polite when she offered him anything. Always, always he would say "Thank you." Always he would eat everything that was on his plate and not complain once. Hell, he would even wash his plate!

But - despite all his politeness he still somehow managed to be irritatingly defying. And after awhile she became convinced that the only reason why he had not told her his name was because she had expressed her desire to know it.

He would accept everything she gave him - but he would give nothing in turn, not even a request.

So, Harley developed a new idea. If the boy didn't want to tell her his name - she would pick one for him.

"Hello Emerald!" she called as she closed the front door and bounded into the kitchen, causing the eyes in that exact shade to glance around in surprise before looking at her.

"Emerald?" He inquired in confusion.

Harley grinned, grabbing a glass from the cupboard which she filled with water. "Well, since you won't tell me your name - I decided to make one up for you."

The boy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as Harley took a long drink, looking at him from under her lashes. "And you choose a color? All right -" With that the boy went back to the newspaper, flicking through it with ease.

Harley wasn't having that. Swallowing, she placed the cup down to continue. "Well, that's just one idea - another is Pretty Boy." No response, just the sound of another page turning. "Golden Boy -" The page turned, but after a longer pause, making Harley smile. "Scar-Face..." His shoulders had tensed, and Harley felt a rush of satisfaction.

"Really, you can't think of an actual _name?_ " The boy coughed, the slight lite of amusement in his tone washing away all satisfaction. "Scar-Face... maybe I should call you Hubba-Bubba girl." His green eyes look over her blue and pink ends pointedly making Harley fume. "It works for your personality too - overly sweet at first, then bland and artificial."

The glass shatters in Harley's grip. "Bland..." She repeats, making the boy meet her gaze - seeming to have no care at all for the broken shards of glass that littered the counter-top or her carefully constructed mask of indifference.

"Yep. You're not the first insane woman pinning after a guy with an inflated ego that I've met. It's shocking how similar you both are, really..." The boy hums, as if in deep thought while Harley's grip tightens on a large shard of glass so that hot blood runs down her hand.

In the back of her mind, she knows what he's saying is probably not true at all and he's just making it up to piss her off. But Harley hated being compared to someone, anyone else - let alone someone who the boy spoke of like he had beaten. Like she was just another in the long line...

But he was hers. His pretty eyes - even that smart-ass mouth were hers. He was her toy; her possession...

If the tattoo wasn't enough to prove it - then perhaps something else would.

A wicked smile spreads across Harley's face as a name comes to her, ordinary to signify exactly what he was yet still able to prove her point. Coming to stand right in front of the newspaper covering his face, she swiftly swings the shard of glass to slice the newspaper cleanly in half. The boy's eyebrows furrow, eyes flickering between the two halves of the paper until Harley straddles him and places the sharp edge against his cheek. "You know what else is similar?" She inquires sweetly, pressing just hard enough to draw a drop of blood when he didn't so much as look at her, her free hand coming to rest on his tattoo at his neck. She revels in feeling him tense beneath her, in seeing her blood drip on the collar of his shirt and his jaw tighten as she leans even closer still so that her lips brush against his ear: "The names Harley and _Harry."_

She feels before she sees the emerald eyes snap up to meet hers; pink mouth parted in shock. Harley's grin widens, and she uses the opportunity to press a hard kiss on his cheek; leaving an imprint made from her lipstick and his blood. Satisfied, she hops off and tosses the shard of glass against the wall with a wink. "See you later, Harry."

With that she happily skipped off to watch TV, feeling Harry's gaze pressing into her back.


	6. Nightmares

**Nightmares**

Two days before Mister J's return, she had entered Harry's room bored out of her mind. She wanted to entertain herself with _Harry;_ wanted to see if she could find what made him tick...

Honestly, she was surprised the boy hadn't argued with her on the name. In fact, he even _answered_ to it. It bothered Harley, for reasons she can only guess at. (She ignored the voices telling her that it was because it could be a sign of him beginning to bend, and she didn't want to let him go so soon.)

But the voices are persistent - so Harley lets out a huff and firmly tells them to shut up before opening Harry's door wide; a winning smile in on her face...

Which drops at the scene before her.

The boy was sweating, his breath labored and heavy as he twisted and turned in his sheets. "No, no..." He whimpered making Harley's eyes widen, allowing the door to close quietly behind her as she stepped closer to the bed.

"Not Cedric - don't kill Cedric! Mum - mum, help! Help! They're killing them -Sirius, Remus, Fred...Fred..." Harley watched with an odd feeling growing in her chest as tears began to stream down the boy's face and his breathing became more frantic - unable to look away. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm Sorry Colin! I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry Tonks..." Then the boy began to scream. "KILL ME! JUST KILL ME! I DON'T CARE! I DON'T FUCKING CARE! LEAVE THEM ALONE AND _KILL ME!"_

Somehow Harley had reached the bed, her hands gripping the boy's shoulders in a bruising grip as she shook him. "Harry! Harry! Wake up! Damn it you ass, _wake up!"_ When Harry broke into incoherent sobbing, Harley straddled him, holding him up by his shirt collar with one hand and back-handing him with the other.

Two seconds later, Harley found herself pinned beneath the boy with his hands on her throat; green eyes burning with murderous sight makes her breathless with awe, blue eyes wide as he continued to hold her there - his grip unyielding. After a moment however, fear's icy hands start to claw at Harley's mind as the boy continues to stare at her with those cold, _haunted_ eyes.

What could have given a boy barely in his twenties eyes like that?

Harley wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.

Suddenly, the ice seemed to thaw from Harry's eyes and confusion replaced it. Then, he noticed Harley lying underneath him with both hands wrapped around the wrist attached to the hand at her throat. Instantly something else came into the boy's expression - raw, and unhidden as he practically jumped off her to land on his feet on the right side of the bed. By the time Harley sat up, he was backed against the wall, trying to hug himself.

"Are you Ok?" The boy asked after a few minutes, shocking Harley with the quietness of his tone.

Shaking the feeling off, Harley grinned. "I can handle a little bit of rough, sugar." She winks at him, but the boy's eyes snap up to meet hers - new fury gathering in his expression.

"This isn't funny!" He growls, the harsh tone making Harley's smile slip. "I could have killed you!"

Harley laughs at that: "Oh please. No you couldn't."

The laugh dies as Harry marches up to her, his five-nine frame suddenly intimidating as he looked down, eyes flashing like lightning. "I used to think the same way."

Harley blinks, curiosity raging through her. "Why do you care?"

"Why do I -" In a second, all the fury drains out of the boy's expression to be replaced by wariness and exhaustion; a change that leaves Harley speechless by the difference. He places a hand to his forehead and rubs exactly where Harley knows the scar rests behind his bangs. "If you don't know what a conscience is, I suggest you watch Pinocchio to figure it out because I'm too tired to explain it right now - but it's something that makes me not enjoy murdering someone who hasn't done anything to deserve it."

Harley processes his words with a frown. "But I kidnapped ya. I tattooed you."

"So what?" The boy grumbles. "You have also given me food, water, a bed to sleep in and you haven't tortured me or anything yet." He shrugs. "I don't like being here, or being your...'plaything' but I know it could be a hell of a lot worse. You even took the bars off my window."

He steps forward, making a hand motion for her to get off the bed which she obeys dazedly, wondering why it felt like his last sentence held something significant - like she was missing something. She is still troubled when Harry settles into bed, a yawn escaping him. "Goodnight Harley." The words give the woman the motivation to make her way towards the door.

Before she left, she had one last question: "Who were those people Harry?"

There was silence for a long moment, so Harley thought he had fallen asleep. When she opened the door, his voice cut through the darkness. "Some of the bravest people I knew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback (questions, constructive criticism, compliments about how awesome I am, etc...) is much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated.


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